


Mortem Iuxta Est

by BladeOfOlympus



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-09-12 04:12:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16865914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BladeOfOlympus/pseuds/BladeOfOlympus
Summary: Peyton didn't expect his Friday night to have such a high chance of attempted murder.





	1. }1{

Samantha yawned into her fist, hunching her shoulders against the cold morning air. As she walked through the back, grassy alleys between houses, her dog Mickey bounded up ahead, sniffing around. She called a reminder to him, through a yawn, to not go too far. The last thing she needed was a impromptu morning run because he'd decided to run off. Not when she had a full day of sleeping and bugging Peyton to go to a movie with her scheduled. A smile played over her lips at the thought of the exasperated face her best friend would make at her when she video called him.

A deep growling stopped her in her tracks, blinking out of her thoughts. Mickey was standing in front of a gap between a house and someone's shed, hackles raised and ears back. He barked and Sam hurried towards him.

"Hey, quit that! You'll wake someone up!" She hissed, grabbing his collar. He barked again, then went back to growling. Sam looked up to see what squirrel had caught his attention. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw the man standing there. His skin was white and cracked, eyes menacingly wide and a scarred 'smile' stretching from each corner of his mouth. "Oh."

"Oh indeed, girly." He, there was no other way to describe it, growled. She started backing away, dragging Mickey along with her and keeping her wide, terrified eyes on the man. He gave a condescending 'tsk tsk' and took a step out of the shadowed space. She squeaked and tried to pull Mickey back faster, but his hand struck out and grabbed her collar, dragging her back. Mickey went ballistic, barking, and tried to bite the man's leg, but he struck out, kicking Mickey into the side of the next house. Mickey whimpered quietly. "You wanna wake the entire damn neighborhood, jus' 'cause you don't like my face? Fuckin' rude, don't you think?"

"I-I'm sorry, I'm--" Sam started hysterically, only to have the man put a leathery finger to her lips. She snapped her mouth shut, shaking. 

"Don't you think I'm beautiful?" The man asked, sugary sweet, smiling in a way that made his scars twist grotesquely. Sam nodded frantically, tears gathering in her eyes. The man's smile grew wider. "Well then. Since you like it so much, how about I give you the look? Then you can be beautiful too."

"No! No, please, please!" She cried out, starting to sob. She continued to do so as the man dragged her into the shadowy space between the house and someone's shed. Her noises were abruptly cut off and replaced by cheerful humming from the man in the white hoodie. 

Jeff left the girl in the shed, assured by the copious amounts of dust inside that she wouldn't be found for a while, which would allow him to get a few more kills out of the way before anyone got suspicious. He took her wallet and riffled through it as he slid house to house to reach the woods ringing the neighborhood before people began to wake up. There was a bit of cash, which he pocketed for later. There were also a pocket full of photos, which he skimmed through as he strolled through the shady undergrowth. Most of them were the girl with her family, a mom and little sister, and he put them to the back of the stack in his disinterest. A few of them were of a guy, sometimes with the girl or a group of other guys, sometimes alone. He had black hair, and brown eyes that, in most of the photos, stared at the photographer in disinterest or exasperation. There were a few photos where he had a wry smirk or smug smile on, and one picture in particular that Jeff kept coming back to where he was genuinely laughing and his eyes seemed to sparkle.

He was cute. Jeff could admit that to himself. And if he pocketed a few pictures of this guy, well, it's not like anyone could prove it.

He reached his camouflaged lean-to and tossed the wallet into the bag of similar objects, then stretched out onto the sleeping bag he'd stolen a few weeks ago. He would sleep the day away, then go back out again at night. He kept his knife in his loose grip and faded out of consciousness.


	2. 2

Peyton stomped through the forest, crunching leaves under his feet and yawning. He'd only just gotten out of swim practice, right at sunset, and by now the woods around him were almost too dark to see through. Luckily he'd lived here forever and had already trampled a well worn path to his house, so there was no real danger of tripping or anything. He could trudge on with his eyes closed, if he so desired.

A light caught Peyton's eye and he moved faster, quieter, towards it. The strangely placed lamppost illuminated the clearing with his house when he exited the woods, which allowed him to weave around the stumps and holes that littered the lawn. Peyton unlocked the back door and slipped inside, leaving the door to slam shut behind him as he made his way to the kitchen. A plate of still steaming spaghetti sat on the island in the middle of the kitchen, along with a coke and a note. Peyton grabbed a fork and began eating, sliding over the note to read as he ate.

_'Sorry, sweetie, I had to leave earlier than anticipated!'_  It read in his aunt's handwriting.  _'I had just enough time to make dinner. The leftovers are in the freezer, and I left some money on my bedside table if you need to go get some groceries while I'm gone! Love you, be back in a few weeks! <3'_

Peyton left the note on the island and picked up the plate and coke before relocating to the living room to eat and start a movie. A few minutes after he finished the spaghetti and not even a quarter way through the movie, he fell asleep, hugging one of the large couch pillows. Eyes appeared in the window, staring at him without blinking.

The silence woke him up. He blindly groped around for the remote, stretching out on the couch and clicking the button that restart the movie once he found it. In the few moments of silence before the tv started up again, Peyton heard a quiet sigh of breath and footsteps padding towards him. His sleep addled mind realized something.

The silence hadn't woken him.

Something breaking it had.

There was someone in his house, and it wasn't any one of his friends. He silently felt around with his hand to find the fork he'd used with his spaghetti still on the couch. He gripped it tightly and waited, ears on overdrive to try and pick up any warning noises over the opening score of the movie.

Peyton could  _feel_  the burglar stepping up to the couch, raising their hand to strike. There was a quick movement, but not from the intruder. Peyton sat up, swinging his fork their torso. Whoever it was cursed and jumped back, hitting the coffee table. They snapped back easily, going to slash with their knife, but Peyton had already scrambled away down the couch. He vaulted the armrest, slipping a bit, and sprinted towards the kitchen.

The intruder snarled to themself, kicking the coffee table away out of spite as they followed Peyton. There was a crash from the kitchen and they veered towards it, dashing through the doorway.

Only to have a frying pan, wielded by Peyton, smash into their face. The burglar crumpled. Peyton stared down at them, breathing heavily, and reached over to flip on the kitchen light.

The guy on the floor had bleached-white skin, black curly hair that really needed a trim, and scars stretching from the corners of his mouth to form a gruesome smile. His nose was gushing blood, and Peyton grimaced.

"Ouch." He muttered, nudging the guy with his foot, holding the pan ready to hit again. The guy didn't react at all, so Peyton crouched next to him. There were little holes in his eyelids, some with tiny pieces of thread, and the thought that  _maybe he sewed his eyes open at some point_  crossed Peyton's mind. He brushed it aside and pulled one of the guy's arms over his shoulder. "Up we go."

Peyton hefted the guy up and dragged him out of the kitchen, down the hall, and dumped him in the lower floor bathroom's tub. He checked to make sure the guy wasn't going to wake up soon and dashed outside to collect some rope, which went around the guy's wrists and ankles. Just in case. Then he left to go hide the guy's knife under the kitchen sink. While there, he muttered to himself.

"I better not fuckin miss swim practice because of this."

Which was probably not what he should be focusing on, but fuck it. Peyton wandered back to the bathroom, taking his time, and wondered if he should set the guy's nose. Maybe not? He had broken in and tried to kill him. ...Yeah, definitely not. That was a stupid idea. He could suffer.

Peyton leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom, blankly staring at the guy in the tub while he thought. First off, he was going to ask this guy some stuff, make sure this wasn't some overly complicated scare prank. Then, depending on the answer, he'd call the police or let the dude go. Simple!

"HEY!"

Peyton blinked out of his thoughts. The dude was awake, glaring at him and straining against the ropes on his wrists. Not that it would help, Peyton thought. But back to what he'd yelled.

"Hm?" Peyton hummed inquisitively.

"I  _said,_  stop staring at me you dumbass creep!" The dude hissed.

"What's your name?" Peyton asked. The dude blinked, reeling back a little from the unexpected question. He quickly sneered to hide it.

"Ever heard of Jeff the killer, kid?"  _Jeff_ rasped, purposefully dropping his voice to seem more intimidating. Peyton just frowned vaguely, not seeming too overly concerned.

"So this isn't a prank. Shame."

Jeff watched Peyton pull out his phone and doubled his efforts to undo the knots keeping the ropes on his wrists. Peyton dialed 911, secure in the fact that  he'd been in Boy Scouts for years, and thus knew how to tie a goddamn good knot.

"You'll regret this!" Jeff yelled, just as the dispatcher answered.

"Hi, yes, someone broke in and tried to kill me? I have him tied up in my tub..."

**Author's Note:**

> so. im halfway through writing chapter 3...... therefore. u probably won't get 2 until I finish 3. i'll do my best tho


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